


Non Ducor Duco

by Roga



Category: Kings
Genre: M/M, Military Background, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-01
Updated: 2009-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:56:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/pseuds/Roga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack/OMC. The first time Dan met the prince, he'd been <i>Private Benjamin</i>; over time, <i>Private</i> had turned into <i>Cadet</i>, which turned into <i>Lieutenant</i>, distant and professional. There was no room for royalty in the chain of command. Now, the honorific feels foreign and stilted in Dan's mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Ducor Duco

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marina/gifts).



> Baby's first PWP! Wtf, guys. Written for [](http://sabrina-il.livejournal.com/profile)[**sabrina_il**](http://sabrina-il.livejournal.com/)'s prompt, which was, very simply: "Jack cocksucking." Only in capslock. This is all your fault. Endless thanks to [](http://thedeadparrot.livejournal.com/profile)[**thedeadparrot**](http://thedeadparrot.livejournal.com/) and [](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/profile)[**hannahrorlove**](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/) for patiently handholding me the whole way, and to [](http://miarr.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://miarr.livejournal.com/)**miarr** for the extra beta.

The air smells like pines, heavy and warm, and Dan's not far enough away that he can't still hear music in the distance. He looks up, trying to find stars between the thick branches that arch above him, their silhouette a shade blacker than the sky. In a month, the boys he trained will be leading their soldiers through enemy territory, navigating by the same stars, whispering commands and tasting sand and blood and earth. They're good boys, he knows. They'll do fine. They'll bring their men back.

That doesn't stop him from feeling guilty as hell for leaving.

Fallen leaves and underbrush rustle on the ground behind him, so he's not really startled when he hears the voice:

"Ditching your own farewell party, sir?"

Dan spins. "Your Highness." And that _is_ a surprise -- and one that makes Dan raise his alertness up a notch, in the otherwise comforting solitude of the woods. The prince is wearing swimming trunks and flip flops, a towel slung over one shoulder, hair sticking to his forehead and his chest gleaming in the dim blue light, still wet from the pool. Dan tries not to stare. He knows Jack; the last thing Jack needs is to know his glamour actually gets to people. Especially to Dan. "You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, you know."

Jack smiles, his hips slanting just a little to the right. He's posed like an ancient statue of a god. "You don't have to call me 'Your Highness'," he counters. "You never have before."

The first time Dan met the prince, he'd been _Private Benjamin_ ; over time, _Private_ had turned into _Cadet_ , which turned into _Lieutenant_ , distant and professional. There was no room for royalty in the chain of command. Now, the honorific feels foreign and stilted in Dan's mouth, but. There are rules.

"You know I can't do that," Dan replies.

"Why not?" Jack poses. "It's just us. My bodyguards aren't here." They don't have to be; because of the prince's presence at the party, all the guests were vetted at the entrance. Dan will have to remember to apologize to the neighbors tomorrow.

"I'm a civilian now," Dan reminds him, putting a little smugness in his tone because it's what's expected -- and he may be feeling guilty, but he also feels fucking relieved. "Gotta get used to the new order of things."

"Does that mean I can order _you_ around, then?"

"Cool down," _soldier,_ he doesn't add, although he would have just this morning. "You're not king _yet_."

"No," Jack acknowledges. "Not yet."

Dan may be a civilian now, but seeing Jack makes him want to straighten his back, cross his arms, go into commander mode, like he still needs to set a constant example. He forces himself to relax, sticks his hands in his pockets.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he asks, when Jack just keeps _looking_ at him thoughtfully, his face half hidden in shadow. Jack always could hold a stare for a long fucking time. "I thought I'd bought enough booze to keep everyone happy and occupied all evening."

"We're all sad to be losing you, sir," Jack says mock-obediently, and Dan still feels something pull in his chest, because he _is_ going to miss them too. "No amount of booze will take away the pain. The better question is, though, what are _you_ doing out here?"

"Go back to the party," Dan orde--no, Dan _suggests_. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I just needed to clear my head."

" _Sir_ ," Jack stresses, just to be contrary, and takes a step forward, narrowing his eyes. "Permission to speak frankly?"

The last thing in the world Dan wants is to let Jack speak frankly, because he's _Jack_ and Jack's a good soldier who abides by rules when they're clear and set in black and white, but right now they're in murky territory where Dan is neither captain, nor subject, nor friend. He keeps his voice neutral when he says, reluctantly, "You don't have to ask for permission."

Jack's gaze is piercing, and he doesn't waste any time. "Have you been avoiding me tonight?"

"Of course not," Dan dismisses, because it's ridiculous, except for the fact that, crap -- it's also very true. Jack raises an eyebrow, not even pretending to be fooled, and lowers his hand so that the towel slides down his body and Dan tries not to follow its movement with his eyes.

More dry leaves crunch as Jack takes another step closer, and now he's almost face to face with Dan, and Dan can see the water droplets on his eyelashes and the goosebumps that rise on the skin of his shoulders, even though it's really kind of hot out. There's a glint in Jack's eye; Dan's the one who taught Jack how to fire a weapon and toss a grenade and lead a team of killers in the dark, but he's always known Jack was far more dangerous out of uniform than in. "Sir," Jack repeats softly, his voice cool and certain, the tone they taught him in Officer School. "Permission to completely ignore your charade of not-caring and be even franker?"

And _this_ , fuck, this is why Dan needs to take a step back and possibly get the fuck away, because Jack's never been one to skirt around things, and his eyes are dark and he's licking his lips, and Jack is _under his command_ and he's the _crown fucking prince_ and he is _sinking to his knees in front of Dan._

Dan feels his stomach drop as his dick grows half-hard, and he's dealt with enemy tanks and with dozens of troops under his command, but he's not sure he knows how to deal with _this_. "Your Highness," he says harshly, and tells himself to _move_ , except his legs won't budge.

"Captain Solberg." Jack's looking at him now, his face tilted up, not touching, and if there's anyone who can make the position of kneeling _anything but_ subservient, it's Jack. "I've served under you for two years. Rank aside, I've worked _with_ you for two more. I've jerked off thinking about you ever since basic training, and the only reason I've held back from jumping your ass since is that I knew it would actually hurt the unit." Jack's hands slowly rise to the waistband of Dan's swimsuit, carefully, carefully touching fingertips to his hips, like he's afraid Dan's going to flee, which is what Dan _should_ be doing; instead, he's just making an effort to keep breathing. Jack halts his fingers' movement, holding them in place. "Dan," he says, and it's jarring to hear his name on Jack's lips. "Tell me you never wanted this too, and I'll stop."

It's almost frightening just to see Jack being so honest -- and it would be impossible to deny, Dan recognizes regretfully, given the very noticeable evidence mere inches away from Jack's mouth. Wanted it? Protocol exists for a reason, and Dan has never allowed himself to _want_. Dan's seen Jack in every situation imaginable; he knows what Jack looks like when he's pissed off, and knows what he looks like when he's scared. He's seen Jack exhausted and seen Jack hyped and bright-eyed, seen Jack naked and seen him asleep and seen him breaking down, he's yelled at him and laughed with him and sat with him the first time he killed a man and held him the first time he got one of his men killed. He's stayed up with him till dawn, squinting over maps and orders, waking up to the scent of a cup of black coffee pushed under his nose that Jack made after fifty minutes of sleep.

Jack is complicated and beautiful and more than a little fucked up, and he's a good officer, and Dan can't _know_ Jack as well as he does without wanting, without also feeling this monumental awe at the sight of Jack, on his knees, _offering_. And Dan knows he's fucked when he can't do anything but close his eyes, any credibility he ever had as a commander with actual ability to _exercise judgment_ and exert a _fragment_ of self control effectively gone down the drain, but at this moment he's not sure he cares.

"Hmm," Jack hums, sounding half pleased and half _interested_ , and his fingers press against Dan's skin again, cool and slowly inching lower. Dan can feel Jack's breaths on his cock through the swimsuit, hot and measured, like Jack is testing how long Dan can take the proximity without making a sound, and then a hand slips under Dan's waistband and drags his swimsuit down as the other closes around his dick. Dan's thighs clench and he swallows, and opens his eyes to see Jack looking up at him, lips curving up to expose white teeth in the moonlight, looking self-satisfied and insufferably hot. Dan grits his teeth. "Fuck."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Is that an order, sir?" he asks, his fingers constricting around Dan, squeezing lightly.

Dan attempts to throw Jack a stern look, although he's not sure he succeeds. "You really can stop calling me 'sir'—" his breath hitches as Jack's thumb brushes the tip of his cock— "any time now."

Jack smirks wider. "Don't worry about it," he says, wetting his lips, "this mission is strictly voluntary," and then he leans in and licks a long strip down the length of Dan's cock, his tongue burning hot and wet and feeling _impossibly_ fucking good.

"Good," Dan manages, spreading his legs a little wider and relaxing his knees, because the nearest tree is too far away to lean on and he wants to be stable enough to make it though this without collapsing on top of Jack. Jack notices what he's doing, judging by his grin, and murmurs, "Good to know basic position is useful for something other than shooting," and as an afterthought, "or at least shooting _bullets_ ," and before he knows it Jack's hands are splayed flat on his thighs and Jack takes his cock in his mouth and _fuck_ , Dan can't think. Jack's tongue swirls around the head, slow and luxurious, and Dan strains to hold himself still as Jack lets out a long, unquestionably deliberate moan, like he really _has_ been waiting for this for years, which is entirely too mind-blowing to think about and if possible, Dan grows even harder.

Jack makes another pleased little noise and Dan's fists clench, nails digging into his palms as Jack's tongue flicks the rim of his cock at irregular intervals, lips sliding up and down in short, easy-paced strokes, like he's in no hurry to get anywhere or do anything but drive Dan crazy. Jack is two years younger than him, which sometimes feel like twenty, and sometimes it feels like Jack's got more life-experience than the entire regiment put together; this is definitely one of the latter occasions, and Jack is flaunting the kind of expertise that in any other military field would merit an award. His Royal Highness Lieutenant Jack Benjamin, fresh recipient of the RKG Army's Medal for Excellence in Cocksucking; for a moment Dan almost snorts at the image, but then Jack lifts his gaze to meet Dan's eyes with the familiar expression that says _I'm doing this for you, sir_ which Dan's starting to realize might have always been code for _I want your dick in my mouth, sir_ , and then Jack starts _sucking_ and Dan's brain shorts out.

His hips rock forward, instinctively. "God," he says, sounding a little strangled, and then he catches himself and stills his hips. "You -- keep doing that."

Jack does, dragging his lips over Dan's cock and sucking hard, and though a part of Dan wants to just close his eyes and enjoy this, the temptation to watch is too hard to resist: Jack's hollowed cheeks dark with shadow, the muscles of his bare shoulders and chest taut and shifting slightly with every motion, light catching on the metal of one of his rings that now rests on Dan's hip, mesmerizing. Jack's breaths are quicker now, his cheekbones flushed, and every now and then he draws in a deeper breath and shivers, fingers digging momentarily into Dan's skin and then relaxing again with a hint of a caress. Dan fights against the urge to thrust, to run his hands down Jack's neck and grip his shoulders and _touch_ , even though he wants to so badly it almost hurts -- but Jack is still the prince, and Dan won't take a chance and presume; in the end he can't help the need for contact, and settles for resting a hand on Jack's head, smoothing his fingers in soft, pool-damp hair.

Jack closes his eyes with a tiny sigh and takes him in deeper, speeding up the pace, the heat and pressure of his mouth feeling like the focal point of the entire universe. And Jack is letting out these hot, _gratified_ sounds, breathing shallowly and hurried and _focused_ , and Dan can imagine him just like this, on his knees in the office or crouching in the dark with streaks of paint on his face or backed against sandbags and ammo crates and keeping forced combat silence as Dan fucks his mouth and it's too much, heat coils in Dan's belly and it's all he can do, he's going to --

"Your Highness," he tries to warn desperately, and then Jack squeezes the base of his cock and Dan's hips jerk as that _fucking fucking bastard_ pulls away, leaving Dan aching in the air and unable to fucking come. "Fuck!" he hisses, but Jack's not gone; he's very much there, pressing small kisses around Dan's cock, his inner thighs, warm and teasing and not at all what Dan _needs_. "Please," he gasps, his thighs trembling, waiting for Jack to _do_ something.

"Dan," Jack murmurs, teeth lightly grazing Dan's skin, "Fuck your protocol." His tongue finds Dan's balls and Dan sucks in a shaky breath and utters something akin to " _ngh_ " as Jack's tongue licks and nips and torments and withdraws. "My name," Jack continues against his thigh, his tone serene and commanding. "You can't have missed it, it's on the news all the time."

And Jack looks up expectantly, lips bright red and swollen and just barely brushing Dan's dick, feather-light and tortuously slow, and Dan's dick is throbbing in time with his pulse as Dan's voice breaks on " _Jack._ "

Jack doesn't waste any time, rapidly stroking his cock twice and then enveloping it with his mouth and sucking deep, and Dan's eyes slam shut as he comes with a shudder, fingers grasping at the air and Jack's shoulders as Jack swallows around him, no woods and no party and no farewells in the world, just _them_.

He's still feeling a little lightheaded when Jack leans back gently, sitting on his heels, still close enough that Dan doesn't have to let go of the shoulders he's gripping which is fortunate, because they're the only things holding Dan up right now. Jack pats Dan with the towel, lightly snaps his waistband back into place, and then lifts his eyes to meet Dan's and licks his lips and says, "Thank you, sir."

It's all Dan can do to keep standing.

"That was," he says. His heart rate is just beginning to slow down from at-risk-of-heart-attack to mere pounding, which is making it only slightly easier to think. He swallows, tries to regulate his breathing. "Really. Very commendable."

Jack grins. "I was trained in 'sensitivity and determination'," and Dan knows that when Jack is quoting military policy for crowd control and applying it to blowjobs and it sounds horribly, horribly apt, it's a sign that he needs to sit down.

It's almost physically painful to lose the little bit of contact he had with Jack, but Dan separates himself and drags his feet to a pine a few meters away and finally allows his legs to buckle, slumping at the foot of the tree. The bark feels rough against his back.

Jack dusts off his knees. "Well--" he starts, but if he thinks he's going to scuttle away _now_ he is very sorely mistaken.

"Jack, get the fuck over here."

Jack looks a little surprised and a little amused, but he obeys, and a few graceful steps later he's sitting next to Dan, shoulder to shoulder, almost like they're waiting in a trench. And maybe it's the afterglow, but Dan puts an arm around Jack and buries his hand in Jack's hair, familiar and possessive and not asking for permission; and whether because Jack wants this too or he's just humoring him, after a second, Jack relaxes his head and leans in a little.

"So," Dan says after a moment. "Wanna tell me what that was?"

"Is this an AAR?" Jack asks mildly. "I can write up a report, if you like."

Dan rolls his eyes, not that Jack can see them. "Jack."

"'Wherein Lt. Benjamin gave a goodbye present to the first authority figure in his life he found he could _respect_ '. How does that sound?"

And Dan doesn't really know what to say to that, so he doesn't; just keeps his hand in Jack's hair, rubbing his thumb without looking, feeling the heat of Jack's skin through the thin cloth of his t-shirt, the minute rise and fall of his chest. They stay like that for a few minutes. In the distance, the music changes to slow 80's pop; no one comes looking for them.

Finally, Jack sighs. He puts a hand on Dan's calf and pushes himself up, disentangling from Dan's arm. "You should get back to your party." He takes a few steps back, and in a tone that's somehow wistful and clinically detached at the same time, says, "Goodbye, sir." Jack doesn't bother with _I'll see you around_ ; while Dan's going to be backpacking through the continent, Jack is heading back to the front the day after tomorrow. Dan wrote up the orders himself. "Don't get lost in Austeria."

 _Don't get lost,_ Dan wants to throw back at him, but Jack would no more listen to that than he does to prophecies, and his back is already nearly out of Dan's line of sight. "Jack," Dan calls. Jack turns around and waits for Dan to speak, and Dan knows he should say something weighty and meaningful, but he can still barely wrap his mind around what just happened and his mental process currently desires improvement. And when it comes to a toss-up between _It's been an honor_ and _Let me know if I can return the favor,_ Dan decides to settle for the only thing he really cares about, and says, "Don't get yourself killed."

Jack's eyes flash like the stars as he grins wryly, salutes with what can only be described as _attitude_ , and disappears into the darkness.

By the time Dan returns to the party, the music's blasting and the gate's flung wide open. Out in the street, the flashing lights of the royal security detail are gone.


End file.
